


Years

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Samifer Week 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:41:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wants to go camping, but Lucifer has other ideas in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Years

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt by[winchinchilla](http://winchinchilla.tumblr.com/): ** _I have a prompt!! ;w; Its a little silly but it still warms the deep dark samifer-corners of my heart. I always like to imagine them camping or something. Going out in the woods for some reason or another. and maybe sammy's all excited and nerding out over nature and luci has bad-intentions =u=.. haha♥ you dont have to if its not your thing! -u- i just wanted to share my favorite daydream♥ im excited to see what you write next!_
> 
>  
> 
> **Inspiration:[Years by Bartholomäus Traubeck](http://vimeo.com/30501143)**
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of service. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

Pale eyes of arctic waters watch the sky where it’s bare from the standing pine trees, eagerly reaching out to the sky. Always looking upward. The Devil admires the twist of blues and yellows across the sky, letting his vessel breathe in the scent of pine and earth. It’s been more than ages since he took the time to admire his Father’s creation, in a temporary state of peace where destruction and chaos are taking a backseat. 

Lucifer has to admit, going camping was a good idea. Although he rather give Sam a more habitable lodge, not this tent -- which looks flimsy and worthless. The archangel insisted he at least do something to it, but Sam refused. He was driven to do this a certain way and Lucifer wonders if it’s out of tradition or memory over his deceased family. Lucifer is still unsure of the concept of humans paying homage and he is in no mood to spoil Sam’s good mood. The brunette is practically bounding about in excitement, gushing over the concept of hiking and roasting marshmallows. 

The world has changed and it’s not the same world Lucifer has known or that Sam has known. The Cage was meant for one and Purgatory was meant for the Leviathans. Hell -- his kingdom -- was meant for him, not an ambitious demon who is rather impressive when blood travels southward. All of Heaven, Earth and Hell were in a flurry and Lucifer clawed at the Cage with renewed vigor. 

He found Sam lost and struggling to figure out where Dean has gone. Lucifer provided him company and Sam was on the fast track for recovery. Not the healthy sort of the recovery. It’s the one where the bone is broken and the body heals as it is, the bone stuck but body no longer revealing broken skin and deep bruising. You live with the frayed marrow. You live with the frayed mind with the Devil at your side. 

Lucifer turns and blinks at Sam, his impossibly tall frame bent over and adjusting the tent. The archangel watches him for five minutes, his calloused fingers struggling with a knot. While Lucifer was enjoying this ‘back to nature’ gig, Sam was being obnoxiously serious and stiff. He was a walking boy scout, wanting to explain what plants did what and the saying for poison ivy. If he hears _leaves of three, let it be_ one more time, he may just burn the world down. 

Moving over to the Winchester, he stood behind him before dipping down, body melding against his. Sam stiffened underneath him, sucking in the air loudly as Lucifer draped over him, a sly smirk settled on his face. Hands moved to aid Sam in his work, chin resting on his shoulder as he made quick work of the knot. It’s only when Sam felt hips grind against his backside did he scowl and push Lucifer aside, catching a glimpse of a mischievous smirk. 

“Come on! I want to go camping, _Lucifer._ ” 

Sam looked flustered and Lucifer arched a blond brow, making a face that he was far from understanding the sentence. Plus, he was a bit unsure why his name was emphasized. Was it meant to remind him that he was of angel heritage? Once angel. Now devil. Come on now. 

“Me too,” he argued in return, unfazed and relaxed. Lucifer gave a thoughtful look after a moment, crossing his arms and allowing a finger to tap his chin. It’s been four months since he found himself returned to Sam’s side and four months of not badgering Sam on the topic of being used as a vessel. He’s been behaving (unfortunately) because here was a time in history where there is no Michael and Dean Winchester to stand in his way. He has Sam all to himself and in turn, he’s going to get Sam’s consent the way he wanted to always get it: Sam understanding his goals. Him fooling and teasing with Sam has a rhyme and a reason, more to Sam’s benefit than his own. 

“I’m pretty certain that sweaty, bareback -- ”

Sam’s turning a bright red. “Lucifer -- please!” 

“-- sex, constitutes as camping. It’s in the films your kind watch.” 

Sam sputtered, blushed hotly, scowled and stomped off all at once at Lucifer's diplomatic explanation. It was rather impressive to watch and Lucifer watched with a smile on his lips. There’s no reason to be stingy. Both had a deeper understanding of the other than most and had shared tight quarters before. In addition, Sam needed some fun in his life. Both of them echoing misery from the other cannot be a constant activity of theirs. It was making him molt and Sam’s sideburns grow obnoxiously fast. 

Lucifer busied his day keeping Sam company, or rather harassing him. Some were subtle, some were not. 

The blond licked a wet stripe across Sam’s neck, hands pinning the brunette’s wrists together against the sleeping bag. The Winchester squirmed and growled, cheeks burnt red and unsure of how him scraping his knee resulted into this. He innocently asked for where the First Aid kit was to grab a bandaid and how he got shoved on his back in the tent was beyond him. “Lucifer!” he huffed, feeling his toes curl when an icy mouth is sucking on a sweet spot on the side of his neck. If he doesn’t get this pain-in-the-ass archangel off of him in the next five minutes, he may not find the will to fight back. 

Lucifer gave a grunt in response. 

“Lucifer! Just -- it’s not even my knee!” he complained, praying that somehow that would manage to get him off. Lucifer pulled his mouth away, blinking blankly at him in a way that reminds him of Castiel before attending to the knee. Sam sighed in relief, pushing himself up on his elbows, watching Lucifer soon suck on the scrape. The Winchester hissed, eyes narrowing into thin slits before he’s witnessing the Devil dragging his pink tongue across the scrape. Arctic blue eyes are staring at him throughout the process and his stomach twists into a pit. Heat is flooding back into his cheeks and he’s scrambling away, complaining loudly until he found a bandaid. 

The next time Lucifer played a hand in a misadventure was when Sam went in for a swim at the nearby slow-moving river. Pulling himself out, ready to dry himself off, his clothes and towel were gone save for his shoes. Calling Lucifer led to no one answering and it didn’t seem like they were hidden anywhere. Infuriated and embarrassed, he stomped back towards the camp dripping wet and naked. Lucifer stretched and grinned from his lazy perch. Sam struggled to get dressed with the Devil trying to give him a hickey on the inside of his thigh after that. 

Even getting excited over seeing a hawk led to Lucifer nipping at the rim of his ear throughout the entire process. Sam refused to admit that he was enjoying the attention and the way he’d catch Lucifer staring at him as if he was made out of precious gold. Even so, Sam did his best in resisting Lucifer at each and every bend. 

Finally night began to approach and it was Lucifer who started the fire, lounging like a cat basking in the heat, wearing one of Sam’s t-shirts. Sam made sure to sit on the opposite side of Lucifer, nursing a beer and trying to get annoyed at Lucifer for ruining the first day of their trip. God, if Dean ever heard of this, he’d flip -- 

Sam instantly sobered up, chest beginning to ache as he took a hearty swig of the beer, only making his chest ache more. This was strange; not having Dean about. It still felt so surreal that he couldn’t even make heads or tails of it. His family was dead and he couldn’t determine if Dean was in Heaven or Hell. Like that, he can feel his mood shift. 

“I miss Dean,” Sam blurted out before the fire, eyes remaining put on the dancing flames, body hunched. Lucifer’s eyes moved to Sam, pale blues regarding the Winchester, finding that silence was the correct response. Lucifer couldn’t say he sympathized, if anything it was a reassurance that someone suffered from the brutal tearing of their other half. He cruelly enjoyed and took pleasure out of the fact that Sam was just as alone and singular as himself. Lucifer was finding it difficult to find that urge or idea to comfort.

“Do you miss Michael?” 

The question was asked quietly that Lucifer almost lost it through the white noise of his thoughts. Of course he missed Michael and while it was hard to see his brother years back, visibly against him, he was pleased to see him. Lucifer had, long ago, forgotten what his brother looked like. Only remembered certain portions but never his brother as a whole, something that fueled his own madness and distress within his hollow cage. How could he explain to Sam a phenomenon like that? Where he one day found himself struggling to recount features and memories, suddenly unable to remember his family. Like that he was truly isolated and ostracized from the world, letting hatred stew inside. 

Instead Lucifer licked his lips, turning his head to Sam who is giving him a worrying look, brows knitted together. “When the world was made and populated, you could only hear the animals on Earth. It was a bit rancorous and discombobulated. But as time stretched and years passed, we would hear a splash of notes. Nothing elaborate, just a few notes about the same pitch. We had no clue what it was and when we asked, we were given cryptic and vague answers. It’s when a decade or more passed did more notes enter and slowly we began to realize where it was coming from,” he found himself lost in his words, having to close his eyes and struggle to pull back that memory, but faces were still blurred and voices not in the correct pitch. With all of Heaven empty and all of his siblings incapacitated, he might just forget Heaven altogether one of these days. 

“It was the trees. As they aged, more notes were produced and if they aged together, you have yourself a budding orchestra. It was thrilling,” Lucifer smiled, opening his eyes and finding Sam staring intently at him, not sure where this was going. “I suppose you could say that angels were the first and the original hippies,” the blond added and that earned a laugh from Sam, the Winchester getting up from his spot to sit closer to Lucifer. 

“Even get high?” Sam snorted in disbelief, plopping down beside him, Lucifer giving Sam a look that can nearly be described as ‘fondly.’ 

“When you hear a sermon each and every day, sometimes it’s the only solution,” Lucifer retorted without missing the beat, earning a bright grin from Sam who is easing down next to him. Determining him as safe for the moment. The archangel watches Sam unwind and stretch, leaning against one of the duffle bags, occasionally watching his eyes drift off to the woods expectantly. 

“Would you like to hear them?” 

The brunette opened his mouth, as if ready to say ‘no’ out of courtesy, but thinks against it. Nodding his head, the Devil shifts closer, “Even with deforestation, you can’t muffle the sounds. For as long as there is one tree left standing, it’s a musical masterpiece all on its own. Being one doesn’t mean all is lost.” Fingers moved and slipped across the sides of Sam’s face until they found his temples, closing his eyes. Sam wanted to say something. To grab at one of Lucifer’s hands or cup his face, but noise bombards him.

Sam found himself shifting and twitching, giving an audible gasp, Lucifer feeling Sam’s excitement through their connection. Sam listened ardently to the notes filling the air, a haunting melody filling his ears, somehow everything synchronized harmoniously to compliment the other. Lucifer, however, was relishing in the connection where soul and Grace met. It was a warm spark of life and he listened carefully to it crackle and hum in the background of the woods. 

The brush of lips against his made eyes open, finding Sam’s face obnoxiously close, forced to close his eyes. Sam’s lips were pressing into his, curious and exploring, the archangel reciprocating with a slow-moving kiss. He tasted the granola and the peach in Sam’s mouth from this afternoon’s lunch, tongue sweeping across to memorize the roof of the Winchester’s mouth, earning fingers gripping at the front of his shirt. Pulling away for Sam to breathe, he watched him suck air back into his lungs, blue eyes half-lidded. 

“If I’ve known this would be your response, I should have done this from the very beginning,” Lucifer murmured, cool fingers tracing the outline of Sam’s face. 

Sam laughed -- breathless and bewildered at himself, “ Who would have thought hippie tactics worked on me?” Lucifer is pulling him towards him and Sam’s unable to find himself the decency to pretend he’s stingy about being in Lucifer’s company. The blond is cool to the touch and Sam managed to weasel himself right up next to his side, leaning into him. Sam’s waiting for the Devil to grin against his neck and rub the inside of his thigh or wiggle his fingers into the depths of his jeans, but instead Lucifer is passive by his side. An arm does move around his shoulders so fingers can touch his skin, the sound of the world around him returning. 

“I should have just told you that I could hear the trees,” Lucifer sighed forlornly, Sam chuckling somewhere into his collarbone as he settled down. Occasionally one or the other would murmur something to the other in the becoming silence the night provided until Sam fell asleep. Both remained in place till morning, Sam listening to the world thrum around him and Lucifer listening to the steady tempo of Sam’s heart.


End file.
